Learning to be Human
by Opus of Anathema
Summary: Morrigan, a warrior named for the battle maiden of lore, renounces human feelings and emotions too painful to bear when a friend is killed. Her self isolation and coldness spell trouble for a certain young man.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

In the wee hours of the morning, a willowy young woman crept down the spiraling staircase leading to her room with the grace of a prime feline. Her dark hair fell past her waist, a lustrous ebony tide which seemed to have a life of its own. Clad only in a thin nightgown, she hugged her arms to herself as she continued to descend.

She skipped the last few steps at the bottom, landing lightly. As she neared the heavy wooden door leading to the outside world, she began to sing under her breath a song to celebrate the morning. She loved the nippiness of fresh air; it invigorated her and prepared her for the day ahead.

A smart rap on the door halted her, mid-melody. She clasped the door handle, long, thin fingers wrapping easily around the iron. Her skin was pale, almost deathly so, against the rusting metal handle.

Once she cracked the door open, she considered closing it and pretending she'd never heard the knock. Too late.

"Hello, Morrigan" A tall man, fully dressed with mousy brown hair pushed past the woman, inviting himself into her hallway.

She'd been named after the battle maiden of lore, rather fitting since she was deadly with a sword and even more fatal with her bare hands. Morrigan shut the door behind him, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Pauling, what are you doing here?"

He turned to her, hazel eyes glittering with an emotion she didn't like. He raised an eyebrow, drinking in her appearance. Morrigan wished she was wearing more clothes; his eyes had the steeliness of a sword, and cut away her clothing as such. But she wouldn't let him see her unnerved.

"I'll ask again. Pauling, what are you –" She was cut off when he abruptly darted forward, pinning her against the wall. He had his mouth on hers, hips pushing against her own. She dropped straight down, ducking out from his loose hold and sunk her fingers into the collar of his tunic.

"I am a powerful man," said Pauling, eyes narrowed at the woman who held him.

"You're a crooked man," she hissed, kneeing him in the stomach and releasing him. He fell back, then lunged forward to grab her legs. Morrigan heard him cry out and release his hold on her ankle as she shattered his nose. With another blow to the head, Pauling was left unconscious on the floor.

Morrigan sat down on the bottom step of her staircase, eyes fixed on the King of Iliath's right hand man and friend since childhood. Well, this was a way to start the day. She rose to her feet and returned to her room to change into more suitable clothing. Her nightgown was sprayed with droplets of Pauling's blood – disgusting. Breeches and tunic on, she tottered downstairs to fix herself some breakfast. The King's advisor lay in a bloody, broken heap on her floor.

_There had to be more women he'd tried to dominate_, she thought to herself, noise of chewing filling her head. _Well, serves him right for …for what he was trying to do to me. He deserved to die._ A more rational voice in her head said in a small voice, _Morrigan, don't you think you might have overreacted? You didn't have to kill him. You could have simply knocked him out and taken him to the court._

"Shut up," she growled, throwing half of her bread roll into the garbage and leaving the kitchen. "It's too early for ethical discussions."

-----------------

"Enter."

Morrigan slipped into the King's study, face smoothed over. The King's face was not so blank; on the contrary, he looked homocidal. _That'll get him in trouble one day_, she thought to herself dryly. _He gives away his emotions too easily_.

She nodded her head in acknowledgment, but refused the chair King Deitrich gestured to. "Your Majesty."

"I have received word that Lord Pauling has been murdered," said King Deitrich, a note of grief creeping into his raspy voice.

"No!" gasped Morrigan in mock horror. Deitrich raised his eyes skyward.

"I am not in the mood for games, Morrigan," he said curtly. "I know you did it."

"Of course, Majesty," she said seriously. "His body was found, after all, in my tower."

Deitrich gazed at her levelly. "Why?"

Morrigan smoothed out a wrinkle in her breeches. "You wouldn't believe me."

"I hardly think it's your place to judge whether or not I'd believe you."

She shrugged. "Alright then. Lord Pauling knocked on my door two days ago, shoved his way in, and proceeded to force himself upon me. When I protested, he continued his attempt to rape me, so I broke his nose to quiet him and then killed him."

"I know – _knew ­– _Pauling. He would never do something like that," said the middle-aged King. "He was a tremendous asset to Iliath while alive –"

"Yes, yes," drawled Morrigan. "Speaking of assets, he also valued those of certain females –"

"Silence!" shouted Deitrich, a vein throbbing at his temple. Morrigan looked at him in disdain. He really needed to learn some self-control. "Killing the King's advisor is unacceptable. I am exiling you from Iliath."

Morrigan turned towards the door. "Fine. I have no desire to continue residence in a realm ruled by such a blind man."

He started to say something, but she shut the door, cutting him off.

Outside the study, a friend of Morrigan's, Linus Terrade accosted her.

"Morri, what did he say?" His green eyes were filled with concern.

"Not much," she replied as they strode towards the exit. "He did exile me from the realm, though."

Linus stopped mid-step, grabbing Morrigan by the arm and whirling her around to face him. "Morrigan!"

"Linus!" she teased.

He stared at her for a long moment, and his eyes darkened. "Where will you go?" he said quietly.

"Anywhere but here," she replied. "I'm perfectly capable of defending myself, you know. I'll take my horse and end up somewhere. Keeping a low profile, of course."

Linus looked most somber. "When you get settled, send me word, alright? I'll come visit you."

Morrigan smiled at her friend. "Will do." Hugging him fiercely, she added, "I'll miss you in the meantime."

His face was very close to hers as he whispered, "I'll miss you, too." Linus gazed at her intently, as though trying to memorize her face. A shiver went down her spine as she saw an odd expression take over his face. She backed away hastily.

"Goodbye, then!" called Morrigan as she set off to pack her things. Running a hand through his brown hair in frustration, Linus watched her go.


	2. Low Profile?

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Low Profile?**

Up in her tower, the pale young woman hurriedly packed her things. She picked out what was essential and what was not, throwing everything that was necessary into a knapsack. Her stormy gray eyes flashed dangerously when she was in a mood.

Her eyes flashed today.

The last thing to go into her sack was a thin, oblong mirror. Word would have reached the outside world about a woman's murder of the King's advisor, and Morrigan was determined to leave her past behind her in Iliath. Vowing to keep a low profile, she drew a slithering black cloack over her hair, throwing her pallid face into shadow. _No behavior that might give away my identity_, she repeated to herself as she tied the knot on her knapsack, slinging it over her shoulder.

At the stables, Morrigan's mare waited in her stall. The groomsmen were expecting Morrigan, and nodded to her in acknowledgment.

"I've got her groomed," said one. Morrigan thanked him and slipped into the chestnut's stall, placing a pad across the horse's back. Then came the saddle, girth, and bridle. Leading the mare out to the courtyard, Morrigan swung astride nimbly.

"Take care of yourself," said the same groomsman who'd brushed her mare.

Morrigan nodded to him, raising her hand in farewell before returning it into the folds of her cloak. Heels met horseflesh, and the chestnut mare with the hooded rider was off, never to see Iliath again.

-----------------------

The skies were darkening, so Morrigan reined in her horse to make camp for the night. The trees were dark and ancient in this part of the wood, and the woman stood silent for a moment, simply listening. Satisfied they were alone, she tied her mare's reins to a gnarled branch and then took her place at the base of the tree trunk, head leaning against the bark. As the horse grazed, Morrigan fell into a dreamless sleep.

She resumed her journey the next morning at dawn. Lustrous amber shades dripped across the sky, blending with the indigo of the night and the cerulean blue of the day. Morrigan didn't come across anyone in particular, though she did steer her horse to a side road sometime in the afternoon when she saw a small group of riders in the distance. If they be bandits, she knew she wouldn't be able to resist using her skill to defend herself. Normally, there'd be nothing wrong with that, but the Ilian had vowed to lay low.

On her third day on the road, Morrigan came across a little stream which appeared to be as thirsty as she was. Almost guiltily, she stole water from its already meager supplies and washed her clothes, then rinsed her face, arms, and legs. The sound of approaching hooves sent her diving for cover in the brush, arm snaking out to rescue her clothes from the banks of the stream at the last moment. Cursing under her breath, Morrigan stared woefully at the still-wet garments which were now filthy since she'd dragged them into the dirt with her. Fortunately, her horse was grazing somewhere nearby but out of sight.

She sat dead-still in the dirt, ears pricked. Voices drifted in on the spice-laden breeze:

"How many more days to Corus?" It was a young girl's voice.

"Four, maybe five," returned an older, male voice.

Judging by the sound, Morrigan guessed there to be five horses in the party. They had to be ambling by at a leisurely pace; the hoofbeats fell so slowly. From her vantage point in the brush, Morrigan watched through gaps in the bramble as the riders walked by. Brilliantly colorful crests and insignias marked the the shields of two men.

_Knights_, she thought to herself. _Headed to Corus …that's the capital of Tortall_. Pleased to have this information, Morrigan decided to track them from a safe distance and follow them to Tortall, where she'd have her new start. Her musings were stopped when she sniffed the air. A peculiar smell …bandits!

The drama unfolded before her very eyes. Half-naked in a bush, Morrigan watched a group of feral looking men ambush the Tortallan party. A particularly nasty looking one grabbed the young girl who'd spoken, his grin looking more like a grimace.

"What have we here?" he said in a low voice, looking the girl over. She couldn't have been more than twelve.

Morrigan couldn't hold out any longer. She pulled on her breeches, damp and dirty, with lightning-quick speed and pounced. The men hollered at the new arrival, though she stayed deadly silent. She set her sights on the man who held the girl, kicking him squarely in the back. He toppled to the ground and the girl shrieked as his weight forced her into the dirt. Morrigan grabbed him by the back of his shirt and yanked him off the girl, kicking him to the side.

"Are you alright?" she asked the girl hurriedly. Blue eyes wide, the girl nodded.

Out of the corner of her eye, Morrigan saw a flash of movement. Whirling, she sank into a defensive stance as the bandit hurtled towards her. A few moments later, he fell, choking, a small dagger buried in the flesh by his collarbones. The two knights fought with the remaining three bandits, and Morrigan drew her sword, the glistening blade an extension of her own arm. With a fierce swiping motion, she drew a slit along the back of one bandit. He turned his scarred, pockmarked face and yelled something crude at her. Her cloak had long since fallen away to reveal her thin face and loosely braided hair.

Their blades locked. Morrigan was still silent as they circled, feet leaving a flurry of prints in the sod. The bandit swung out and down; Morrigan blocked and saw her opening. She plunged her blade into his chest, grabbing him by the shoulder as she pulled it out. He sputtered and groaned, collapsed on the ground.

The knights took care of the last two bandits. Between them and Morrigan, the three had varying degrees of bruises and cuts, but none were seriously injured. The three females in the party were on the side of the road, faces grim. The youngest was staring openly at Morrigan.

One of the bandits rose to his feet unsteadily, bleeding profusely, and stumbled in the opposite direction. The knights let him go.

The excitement over and flush fading from her cheeks, Morrigan abruptly paled as she remembered something. _No behavior that might give away my identity_.

Damn it.

The other members of the group headed to Corus had joined the girl in her staring. A bit miffed, Morrigan returned the stare in defiance. One knight coughed and she saw him hide a tiny smile.

"Hello," said Morrigan.

"_Hello_," said the other knight.

"Thank you," said one of the women. Morrigan nodded, bile rising in her throat as she remembered the bandit who was prepared to take the child's innocence away.

"You're the Shang Unicorn," said the knight who'd smiled earlier. He said it as a statement, not a question. "The girl in the Ilian scandal."

"Hmm," Morrigan mumbled. Deciding it was useless to pretend, she continued, "I might be."

"Please, come to Corus with us," said the woman who'd thanked her a few moments before. "I am Queen Thayet, and you have saved my daughter from violation. We owe you our lives."

"_Queen_ Thayet?" asked Morrigan stupidly.

_So much for keeping a low profile._

She had raven colored hair and an astoundingly beautiful face. "Yes." She flashed Morrigan a warm smile. "You'd be an asset to the realm – your skills are superb."

She shuddered off the compliment, which King Deitrich had given to Lord Pauling, and fell into a thoughtful silence. She'd been planning to follow them to the capital anyways, and now that her cover was blown, she might as well make herself useful …

"Alright," Morrigan said, shaking Thayet's hand. "It's a deal."

The Queen smiled. "Wonderful. We should be there in about four days."

Morrigan rode with the group the rest of the way. Eventually, a bustling city came into view, with a grand palace dwarfing all the other buildings. The knights briefed her on Tortall, and she agreed to help with training the pages and squires in combat.

She was given a room in the palace near the rooms of other people involved in training the realm's future knights. Her chestnut mare was handed over to a man named Stefan, who promised to take good care of her. Things seemed to be looking up.

----------------------

_Knock. Knock._

Contentedly asleep beneath her comforter, Morrigan opened her eyes, still half-asleep. All she could see was darkness. She pulled down her blanket. The sudden light assaulted her eyes and she yanked the covers back up.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"I'm coming!" she snapped, crawling out of bed, hair tousled, nightgown wrinkled, eyes sleepy. She opened the door.

"Hi Morri!"

Morrigan's eyes widened. "Princess Lianne! I'm sorry I yelled, I had no idea …"

The girl giggled, sapphire-blue eyes bright. She was much more cheerful and perky upon returning to the palace than she'd been on the ride there. "Don't worry about it. And just call me Lianne."

Morrigan nodded, ushering the girl in. "Why are you here?"

"To wake you up." Lianne pranced across the room to the Shang's closet and tossed some clothes onto the bed. "I want to show you around today. Lots of people to introduce you to."

"Ahh," muttered Morrigan, eyeing the clothes the princess had set out for her. "How – how exciting."

Lianne had a smile plastered to her face, and Morrigan couldn't help but return it. "Go change," the girl ordered, pushing the older girl to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, Morrigan emerged, clad in beige breeches and a black shirt. Her hair had been combed free of tangles, and her dark eyes were a bit more alert. Before leaving the room, she pulled on a pair of black boots, then followed Lianne out the door.


	3. Introduction & Recognition

**CHAPTER TWO**

**Introduction and Recognition**

They'd been walking around all day; Morrigan following Lianne like a puppy on a leash. It was a sultry day, and the ravenhaired Shang had been introduced to more people than she'd thought was possible to fit in the space of one morning and afternoon.

"There's just one more person," said Lianne, beckoning for Morrigan to follow her down the hall to the palace wing where classes were held for pages and squires.

"Who?" asked Morrigan as they stopped outside a room.

"My older brother," replied the girl, peering through the glass pane in the door to check on the class. She giggled and waved to someone, making a funny face.

Amused by her antics, Morrigan nevertheless thought it necessary to point out that she'd already met Lianne's older brother.

Lianne rolled her eyes. "That was Liam. I'm talking about Jasson. He's in there," she said, gesturing at the door. "He'll be out in a few minutes."

Morrigan nodded from where she leaned against a wall, then slid down to sit tidily on the floor. After a few moments, Lianne plopped down beside the older girl, only to spring to her feet when the classroom door opened. Morrigan stayed where she was, watching squires flow from the room. The corridor, so quiet just a minute before, was now filled with the din of laughing, yelling students and the rustle of bags, books, and quills.

Lianne's legs came into view, followed by a second set of legs. These were covered in dark breeches and boots. Morrigan blinked, looking up.

The princess grinned and pointed at the tall, broad-shouldered young man beside her. "This is Jasson. He's helping Myles teach the squires this year."

"I was going to say," said Morrigan, rising to her feet, "that you look rather old to be a squire. I understand now."

Prince Jasson gave her a small smile. His thick black locks fell into his Conte sapphire eyes, which were framed by sooty dark lashes. He had a thin, sensitive face and square jaw. He extended his hand to Morrigan.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, shaking her hand.

Morrigan nodded. His grip was firm and warm, and a bit unsettling. She drew her hand back after a moment, flexing her fingers. "An honor, Your Highness."

"Call me Jasson," he said at the same time Lianne interrupted, "Call him Jasson."

Morrigan grinned. "I'm outnumbered, I see. Very well then …_Jasson_. So if you're a teacher's aid, how old are you?"

Too late she realized the query might be perceived as rude, and color crept into her cheeks.

"I'm twenty," said Jasson, seemingly oblivious to her distress.

"Morri is nineteen," said Lianne brightly.

The prince's dark brows knitted. "Morri?"

The girl in question cut in. "Morrigan," she said hastily. "But people sometimes call me Morri."

"Ah. I see." Jasson looked from her to Lianne.

"Morri is the Shang Unicorn," continued the younger princess. "She's one of the youngest to get her title."

Jasson looked at Morrigan with renewed interest. "That's an incredible accomplishment."

"Thank you," she replied. "It was difficult."

"I'm sure." Jasson held her gray eyes with his own brilliant blues, and smiled crookedly when she blushed and averted her eyes. Lianne watched this exchange with great interest, and perhaps a bit of smugness.

The princess's expression was not lost on Morrigan, who turned on her young friend. "Lianne," she began suspiciously.

Lianne batted her eyelashes innocently. "Yes, Morri?"

Her eyes grew darker. "I would hate to think you have an ulterior motive here."

Jasson coughed softly.

"Do you not like my brother?" asked Lianne sweetly.

Morrigan's stare was murderous, and her cheeks were red, from anger, embarrassment, or a bit of both, no one would ever know. "He's right here," she said stiffly.

"You say 'ulterior motive' like it's a bad thing," Lianne said.

"I didn't say that," said Morrigan quickly, shooting a glance at Jasson. His cheeks were as flushed as hers.

"Lianne, I think it's time for your riding lesson," he said quietly.

Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Lianne blew them a kiss. "Of course it is. See you later!" With that, she left Morrigan to fend for herself with Prince Jasson.

Morrigan stared after the girl's retreating figure incredulously. Jasson's voice shook her out of it, and she turned to face him.

"I'm sorry, but what was that?"

Jasson cleared his throat. "I apologize for my sister," he repeated. "She's young, and has a romantic streak."

"Oh, that's alright," said Morrigan in a strangled voice, which she quickly concealed.

He sighed. "She has been betrothed to a foreign prince since birth. She tends to take out her frustrations by trying to match people up. I'm sorry you're her latest …project."

Morrigan laughed. "You're sorry? I feel sorry for _you_, having been her brother all these years. I'm sure you've taken the brunt of her matchmaking attempts."

Running a hand through his hair, Jasson sighed. "Yes, well. I'm rather used to it by now."

Sensing the conversation was heading south, Morrigan swept him a little curtsy, bowing her head. "I'd better return to my room. I have things to organize." Only her acquired grace, courtesy of years of Shang training, saved her awkward curtsy from becoming an utter humiliation. She hoped Jasson wouldn't notice.

He noticed. Hiding a smile, he bowed to her. "I hope to see you again soon," he said. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

--------------------------

A week later, Morrigan found herself browsing a marketplace in the city with a friendly knight called Sir Merric. Lianne and Thayet had repeatedly praised the marketplace as a goldmine for the discovery of little trinkets and other odds and ends. Despite her disinterest in jewelry, Morrigan ended up going anyway, if only to quell the tidal wave of urgings by the Contes. Sir Merric had offered to escort her, since they'd run into each other several times around the palace and exchanged friendly words.

Morrigan had not forgotten her new loyalty to the royal family of Tortall, and her duty to use her fighting skills if necessary. She saw the visit to the marketplace as an opportunity to listen in on street conversation and learn about the doings of Tortallan residents.

She was idly fingering a thin necklace adorned with gemstones when she heard a shopkeeper gush, "Oh, Your Highness!" A familiar voice responded in greeting.

Dropping the necklace, Morrigan turned to see none other than Jasson, strolling the streets. A cluster of girls followed behind him, heads lowered as their lips moved, freeing the gossip from their throats.

Morrigan did the first thing that came to mind. She fled the scene, grabbing Merric's arm and spewing out a hasty apology and promise of a later explanation.

A few streets later, she released her grip on the knight's arm. He stared at her quizzically.

"What was that?" he asked, catching his breath.

She bit her lip. "I saw someone I know."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Ah, well, yes. I mean, no. I mean, I'm not sure. I don't know! Running was the first thing that popped into my head, so …"

Merric chuckled. "I understand, Morrigan."

She lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry for bringing you into it," she murmured guiltily.

He clapped her on the shoulder. "Think nothing of it. Now, what do you say we head back towards the palace? You haven't seen anything you want to buy, have you?"

Nodding agreeably, Morrigan followed Merric out of the sidestreet they'd fallen upon and back onto the main road. The palace loomed a half mile ahead.

Suddenly, Merric stopped. Touching her arm, he said, "Hang on for a minute; I see someone I know."

Her eyes followed the man as he met up with another man off to the side. Merric tapped the man on the shoulder, and Morrigan felt slightly nauseous as the "someone Merric knew" turned out to be Prince Jasson. She stood awkwardly in the middle of the street until Merric gestured for her to come over, and she slunk over to join the men.

"This is my friend, Jasson," said Merric of the younger knight.

Before she could say anything, Jasson said, "Morrigan and I have met. I saw her earlier, but didn't know she was with you. I was about to come over and say hello, but then she disappeared."

Merric shot her a strange look, trying to conceal a grin. She glared daggers at him, causing the knight to hastily turn a strangled laugh into a hacking cough.

Jasson looked bewildered – Morrigan couldn't blame him. "Morrigan?" he asked questioningly.

"Merric is feeling ill," she said. "I should take him back to the castle."

Something that looked like disappointment briefly flashed across Jasson's face. He nodded. "Yes, of course. I hope you feel better soon, Merric."

Morrigan clutched Merric's arm and steered him away from Jasson, back towards the castle. The prince watched them go. Merric seemed to be arguing about something with the girl. Her cheeks and ears were touched with pink instead of their usually icy white.

Against her better judgment, Morrigan turned around to look at Jasson. In that moment, a man darted forward, and Morrigan briefly saw his dark eyes and dirty blond mess of hair before she fell to her knees, a dagger buried to the hilt in her back.

With a primal roar, she lunged for the man, who was running in the opposite direction. She felt strong hands grabbing her and she whirled around only to find herself staring at Sir Merric's chest.

"Let go of me!" she hissed.

"Not with a knife in your back," he said calmly, though his eyes betrayed him. "I need to get you back to the castle."

She battered her fists against his solid frame. "But I saw him!" She was prevented from further speech when Merric deftly pulled the blade from her slender frame, and she fainted in his arms.

------------------------------------

Oh, was there anything so undignified as fainting?

When she came to, Morrigan found herself blinking up at a horribly bright sky. Turning her head, she saw an unfamiliar chest. Realizing she was in someone's arms, she yelped. The person carrying her yelped as well.

"She's come to!" the carrier exclaimed to his companion.

"Already?" It was Merric. So whose arms was she in?

Blue eyes found hers. "Are you all right?"

Willing herself to be calm, she closed, then reopened her eyes. "Why are you carrying me?" she asked, speech slurred.

Jasson's face was unnervingly close to hers. When he spoke, she could feel his breath on her face. "Because you fainted, and cannot walk on your own."

"I didn't faint," she protested, ignoring the pain in her back which screamed with every jarring step. She raised her head, looking around. "Wherem I?" she asked, speech getting worse. "I'm supposed to go see Liah-ah-ahh …" She went limp in Jasson's arms, and he tightened his grip on her.

"She's passed out," he told Merric. "Again."


	4. Author's note

Hey guys! I am still alive, don't worry. I have not given up on Learning to be Human, but I am going to shelf it for a while while I work on a new story. I won't be posting the new story until I have at least half done, so you may not see me around for another few months. The next story will be long, hopefully over 100,000 words. I hope you can all be patient, and thank you so much for reading!


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